


in the veiling of the sun

by windbellows



Series: a fire that knows the naming of you [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguity, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, I swear, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Canon, SO, Speculation, again it's not quite canon divergence, any pronouns zelda, gosh this is a lot of tags.., sighs, they all get the gender juice so, we just don't know what happened to link here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28687896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windbellows/pseuds/windbellows
Summary: The swordsman disappears from Hyrule. In time, a sprout will poke through the ground over his buried belongings.Link inhales. He moves forward.
Relationships: Background Fierce Deity & Link, Background Impa & Zelda, Background Ruto/Zelda, Link & Skull Kid (Legend of Zelda), Link & Tatl (Legend of Zelda), Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Saria & Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Series: a fire that knows the naming of you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142756
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is my personal interpretation of what became of the hero of time's life. it discusses death, and implies what became of him - this is a fic about Link's want of agency at the end of his life. It's not a fic about suicide, nor did i intend it to be. this was borne out of a desire for a better end for the hero of time, and again, my personal interpretation.  
> i posted a similar one before back in may and soon after deleted it because i wasn't satisfied; this one contains closure for Saria and Zelda which was REGRETFULLY MISSING from the first. saria is one of my faves  
> the title of this fic is oddly familiar to my previous one ab skull kids in botw and funnily enough they're both from lotr-related songs. this one's from in dreams

He arrives in the garden without notice, as if appearing out of thin air. The princess senses it. In the middle of the night they walk briskly out of their bedroom, down the chilly halls and slipping through a side exit. Zelda makes his way through the courtyard. Her not-knight waits by a tree in the graveyard, leaning against the bark, wearing armor that doesn’t suit him. 

“You’re leaving,” she says. Not a question. She knows.

“I am,” he says tersely. “Don’t look for me.”

“I wasn’t planning to. Is there anything you need, before you go-”

“There’s one thing.” He pauses. “If you’re willing to listen.”

Zelda nods assent.

\--

A royal priest of Hylia told Zelda once that the intentions of the goddesses are unfathomable, and so we make the best of them; the destruction wreaked by the Triforce is only because the wrong hands got on it at the wrong time, for surely the Three gave it as a blessing, and deemed it worthy of Hylia’s protection. Yet, the priest had continued, the clergy is too afraid to consider that the goddesses made a mistake. Zelda hopes he’s doing well, the heretic in disguise. She wears a mask too - the princess of Hyrule seldom shows his face in public, and thus when he does, no recognition follows. 

It’s a closely guarded secret of the Hyrule royalty, that those chosen in their line carry the blood of Hylia. More often than not women, but Zelda’s not a woman. The echoes of Hylia within her resound in no one else’s ears but his own. 

The goddesses are not human, and the Triforce does not judge morality - but Zelda has no choice but to fathom the divine and in all honesty, it’s not hard, for the goddesses are foolish and the Tree is a fool and the goddesses demand sacrifice, and the Tree is a puppet. There is wisdom in courage in power, and therein lies the paradox for therein lies choices made, and therein lies morality. Triangles of divinity have no place judging the hearts and minds of men. Blood stains Zelda’s hands, and it stains those of the sacred sages, and it stains the castle grounds. 

Ruto had whispered to her once, webbed fingers carding through her hair, _We were to be married once, can you believe it? Married. Married!_

 _I am glad it didn’t work out,_ Zelda had murmured, which drew a laugh from the Zora princess, but the out-of-reach image of the cold Sacred Realm had still haunted them both. 

They’ve said their goodbyes. Ruto understands more than anyone, as well as Impa, who left first on Zelda’s request. He doesn’t plead much or at all, but he pled then, for Impa and only ever for Impa. Zelda slips into the potion shop, and murmurs his wish to the clerk. She doesn’t ask questions. 

\--

An ex-priest on the run from Hyrule, who served a nameless goddess, once told Link that to be faithful is to cut the goddesses down to something we understand, and to live best and be dutiful to the bloodied remains, so to speak. The doubting of goddesses, he had told Link with a sad smile in the shadows of an inn, is what got him driven from the clergy - but shouldn’t doubt have a place in a faith such as theirs?

 _I’m too weary to doubt anymore,_ Link had told the priest with a dry grin in return. 

In his dreams Link goes to the moon’s meadow, and he sits under the tree or perhaps the sun and a butterfly will flutter down from the false sky, bearing a much gentler blue in its wings. Link lifts a hand, and the Deity lands, and Link asks, “What will you do?”

Gods and goddesses don’t mean much to a man who was raised by one, and who ran through the Woods as a child, and harbors a Deity in his breast; being marked by the Triforce is a bit of a joke, looking back on it. Though the Three’s reach is far from being constrained to Hyrule they keep their distance. It’s hard to remember Link, but many a ghost remembers the Deity filling their last moments, and regret that they lifted a hand against the quiet swordsman and a raw, ancient fear. The Deity cares not if the blood spilled is of god nor man. 

_I’ll move on,_ says the Deity. _Though you’ve been quite the vessel._

For they share a face, which no fate in no world had intended, and the Deity will not all abandon him. In the deepest crevices of Link their pieces will lie dormant, for when the desperate, undying Hero wants to make it out alive. The Three will get him, he knows (his instincts are never wrong), when there is just little of the Deity left, but he hopes bitterly that they won’t ever forget. 

It keeps him awake at night, that if the Deity is all some remember, then they might take the Deity to be Link. 

_There is one who remembers you,_ the Deity reminds him. _The girl, who-_

“ _Don’t,_ ” Link croaks. “Don’t.”

The Deity laughs.


	2. Chapter 2

The whispering wood is one that no one dares enter, and no one dares approach, save a single swordsman with no intention of exit. He bears no sword - almost all his belongings are buried in a nearby hole, with simple faith that the Woods will take them too, and a certain mask was burned. The trees reach to consume him, pulling him in with their finger-branches. The swordsman disappears from Hyrule. 

In time, a sprout will poke through the ground over his buried belongings. 

Link inhales, and moves forward. 

Here, time blissfully doesn’t have to be counted. A clock had wound itself into his brain, counting every minute into every second but here, he can finally let go. Most might see him as odd for finding such comfort in the Woods, but there’s familiarity in unfamiliarity - besides, he’s a grown man and should have moved on from this by now, but the Woods had always liked him more than _Mido_ had. In Link’s point of view, he nearly ascended and never left quite all of that behind so frankly, he’s allowed to hold some light grudge. 

Branches point this way and that. The bodies of trees are stout and swaying, and deceptively younger than the ones that lie further ahead, so tall you can’t see the top. But they're still newer, and their bark is carved with grins and scowls. The taller trees are the ones Link is used to the most, along with the hollow trunks of his father’s fallen cousins, marking passageways. There’s no path in the woods, but there are passages, like how bridges are built to cross water. He hopes over rocks in a small stream. The running water captures the mist-light; if he looked down, he might even see himself. 

He’s a fine-looking man, with a face that turns mens’ heads, or so he's told. Ageless, some might say, for you couldn’t tell if he was thirty or nearing a knight’s retirement, and in fact you’re not even sure if he’s a knight at all because he never once said that. He could be a hunter, or a farmer, or even a bard, given the small instrument he keeps at his hip, and if you ask him he’ll certainly tell you something. He seems like he’s well-prepared, dressed for traveling, and his pockets always have an item for any situation at hand. If you were to talk about him and describe what he looked like, you’d find yourself at a sudden loss - his face is slipping memory, like water through fingers. 

But his eye - you find you remember his eye, because it held no reflection, and you think you might have seen trees in there, a thick and tangled wood. 

The trees part for Link, whispering their wonder, and here in the Woods is where he wanted to be - more spacious, where the mist-lights flutter down like dust in sunlight. And there he walks as if in a dream, not noticing his feet touching the ground, through the trees and the fallen hollows and into a small pocket of the Woods. Sitting on the stump, playing with their eyes closed, is an old friend. 

The swordsman smiles. He walks over and lightly taps his old friend’s beak, causing them to stop in their playing. They look up. 

“Skull Kid,” Link says. “It’s me.”

With a squeal, they throw themselves into his open arms - what a joyous reunion! Link laughs and swings them around, pushing their hat back to press kiss after kiss to their forehead. He pulls away only to wipe the tears from their amber eyes, calloused fingers brushing against bark. 

“I missed you,” Skull Kid whispers, pressing themself back into Link’s tunic. Their arms and head rattle against him, flute still clutched in one shaking hand. “You came _back-_ ”

“Of course I did,” he murmurs. 

Skull Kid beams against him, sniffling. “I knew you would.”

Link shifts Skull Kid in his arms a bit, hoisting them to lean more against their shoulder. “Are the others nearby?”

Skull Kid nods, wiping their eyes. “They’re fixing a broken flute. Wanna see them?”

“I’d love nothing more. Wanna get on my shoulders?”

Eagerly, Skull Kid clambers over him (Link gets a foot to the face, but he doesn’t mention it) and settles instead on his back, arms clasped around Link’s neck. He slips his arms under their legs, jostling them up. Skull Kid rests their beak on top of his head. “Where to?”

“Ahead.”

Link goes. Spare amber droplets splash on his collar, and down the front of his shirt. 

“And the others?”

“Do you care?”

“I think I already know, Skull Kid, to be honest with you.”

“Want me to tell you about your dad?”

Stepping over the roots, Link’s careful not to trip. 

“Not really,” Link says quietly.

“Thought so,” mumbles Skull Kid, a little stuffily. 

They start to hum, the vibrations of their wooden frame comforting against his back; it’s a familiar song that tightens his chest, but he hums along, so Skull Kid’s not alone. 

The pair enters a hollow and there, talking around a broken flute like they said, are the fairy siblings. Tatl seems to be snapping at Tael for _something,_ in an eldest sibling way. She’d told Link once that he wouldn’t get it because he’s the youngest. He’d replied then, in turn, that she would’ve liked Saria if they ever met each other. 

Skull Kid waves from atop him, and Link shifts just slightly. At this movement the fairies turn, and Tatl freezes. Link clears his throat. 

“Tatl. Hey,” he says. “Tael.”

“Oh, gods,” she says faintly. 

“Link,” Tael replies softly in greeting. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Tatl drifts up to him, almost stunned, and Link can’t look away. She whispers, “Is it really you?”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “It’s me, Tatl.”

Flying over, Tael pulls gently at Skull Kid, who’s been watching all this with some confusion. Fairies are stronger than they look and after a few tugs, Skull Kid clambers down and lets Tael lead them away. When they look back, rattling worriedly, Link smiles for them. Their beak curls in response and Link and Tatl are left in the hollow, just the two of them. 

He starts before she can. “What do I look like?”

“Link-”

“Tatl. _Please._ ”

The fairy inhales. “You’ve… you’ve got some gray in your hair. It's kinda sandy and falls into your face. Big eyebrows, strong nose, nothing new. One of your eyes is missing and the other’s still marked by the forest.”

“Am I tall?”

“Are you _tall?_ ”

“Well. Am I?”

With her way of rolling her eyes without having a face, Tatl responds, “Yes, you’re tall. Fairly lean. Still on edge like you always were, and your footsteps fall just as quietly. You look like a secret.”

He sinks down against the side of the hollow. “ _Thank you._ ”

She flutters closer. “Did you really not know?”

“Masks,” Link says pathetically. “All that - stuff - never left me. I can’t see what I look like, and no one else can remember. They don't remember at all.”

Tatl lands silently on his knee, and he reaches out to cup around her; they don’t talk, for a little while. The Woods rustles around them. Link tips his head back, closing his eye. 

“What did you tell them?” Tatl asks brusquely. 

“I didn’t tell them anything.”

“Then what are you letting them think?”

“That I died in battle,” he sighs, though a grin pulls at his lips. “Pulled one last final trick, with armor and everything. I think it’ll work out. I’m tired, Tatl. I’ve grown old.”

“Old or not, you look fine to me,” she mutters, which makes him grin more. “So why in the world did you do all that?”

“Kind of a long story,” he replies. 

“ _We’re_ a long story, Link,”

“The goddesses aren’t done with me yet,” he says quietly, and Tatl falls back silent. “I - I know this, more surely than I’ve ever known myself. They’re not done with my soul. But I won’t let them have my body. That’s why I came here. If there’s no rest in death for me then I’ll give myself decay, at the very least.”

“And deep in the Woods is where they can’t reach,” Tatl murmurs. “But that doesn’t do anything to explain the armor. You could’ve just faked without, right?”

“That was partly for the castle, in case they get too nosy.” He runs a hand through his bangs. Tatl was right; they are long. “Stole that armor from some stuck-up in Castle Town. It’s buried somewhere, and they’ll all have no choice but to mistake that for me. I entrusted Zelda with the ruse, and they’ll stick through. They’re just as tricky as me.”

“You’re out of your mind outwitting the goddesses like that. But that’s a good plan.”

“You get me,” he smirks, which makes Tatl snort. 

But they know, that there’s no one else in worlds past and times to come who’ll understand both of them like they do. Neither of them like being touched nowadays, save for their most trusted - Link scoops Tatl up with care and holds her to his cheek, where she presses a star-bite kiss, and they stay like that, for a little while. 

After all, all they had was each other, for countless days into nights. 

“I’ll miss you,” she admits. She had missed him this whole time. 

“I’ll miss you too,” he confesses. He can’t think of a better friend. 

\--

“If things were different,” Tatl says, “What’d you want to be?”

Link considers this. 

“A teacher,” he decides. “I’d be a good one, I think.”

“You would,” Tatl agrees. “You’d be remembered as a good one too.”

“You flatter me, Tatl.”

“Shut up.” But she buzzes with affection against his skin.

\--

“So,” Tael begins, as the four of them traipse through the Woods: “Where are we going?”

“I’ll know when we get there,” Link says. Skull Kid’s on his back once more, arms clasped with more trust than he can bear, tapping away her song on his collarbone. “Don’t worry.”

“I am a little worried.” After a brief pause, they continue, hesitantly, “Did Tatl tell you-”

“He knows,” Tatl interrupts. 

Tael looks at Link. 

“I passed by some of them on my way in,” he informs the fairy, stifling a laugh at Tatl’s indignant noise ( _Why don’t you listen to me!_ ). “The Kokiri trees.”

“I see,” they murmur. “I’m sorry, Link.”

The swordsman shrugs. “They’re still Kokiri. Forms may change, but not the self.” 

“I know, and you know better than anyone, but… still. I’m sorry.”

“It’s the circumstances,” Tatl mutters. “Not the best.”

“I’d say,” Link murmurs. “My fault?”

Tatl whizzes over just to butt at him. “ _Stop that._ It’s not and I’ll keep telling you.”

“Some of them came to us,” Skull Kid adds, almost thoughtfully. “But the others just changed shape. Home’s been changing too, so that’s probably why.”

Link hums. “Change isn’t such a bad thing.”

“But again,” Tael says, “The circumstances.”

“I’d say,” he echoes, and feels Tatl’s gaze on him.

Over a swaying bridge lying across a gaping chasm, Link idly remembers that the Woods span worlds (or exist outside - he was never truly sure) as Skull Kid, looking down, gasps and rattles with excitement. “I think I see stars!” Hopping down, they trot to the edge and search the expanse, eyes sweeping back and forth. The chasm is deep and likely bottomless, but it’s not wide. Somewhere down the line it cuts are two ropes swung between its ledges, and from these ropes hang two swings. Saria had set them up herself. She used to swing on them with the Skull Kids, and when Link wasn’t a baby anymore she had taken him along. 

Squatting down beside Skull Kid, he says, “I’d pluck all the stars from there and give them to you, if I could.”

He never knew how old he was, truly. According to the Tree, his mother had left him by the Woods during a war, but there were many wars and no name to his mother, and outside of the Forest seven years or a thousand could have passed before Link had run out. These stars, in the chasm - he might be older than them. 

“Some of the others say parts of them fall,” Skull Kid tells him excitedly. “If you ever find one, promise to bring it to me?”

Here is a funny thing: in Hyrule, some had pointed out how Link often watched the ground, as opposed to looking up. He’d tell them that’s just how he was raised. _Don’t trip over the roots. Watch your step._ There are chasms in the earth. But the people of Hyrule found art in the stars, and where there were no roads they’d look to where the cosmic paintings point - below is that town, towards there is the sea. As Hyrule had their stars, the Kokiri found theirs in their fairy partners. 

No star or road or fairy ever led Link to Navi.

And the fairies, it seems, have abandoned the Kokiri - no need for a guide if you’re part of the Woods now. Link could’ve used a guide.

He never hated Navi, not once. 

“If I ever find a fragment,” he murmurs to Skull Kid like sharing a secret, “You’ll be the first I’d give it to, and the only person at that. I promise.”

Tatl settles on his head. Tael perches lightly on Skull Kid’s shoulders. Standing up, Link leans down to pull them up as well, and doesn’t let go of their hand.

The four of them keep going. Link ignores what remains of the meadow. The grass is tall as ever, brushing against his sides. 

“We’re here,” he announces. 

Tatl thrums like a frown. “You can tell?”

“Yes,” he says, and the grass parts and gives way around the odd little family, revealing before them a great twisted form of wood and rot, towering as tall as a giant; gargantuan roots moan and groan as Link steps forward. Only the roots are in sight, like great serpents criss-crossed over each other, planted firmly in the earth. Dying flowers flop out of the equally sickly overgrowth and wood, bright and awful like the sky in the moon. His head swims with the sight, and Link’s brow furrows with strain, mind pounding in place of his heart. 

He never hated the Tree, either, though he has every reason to. 

Tatl whistles slowly. “So this is what happened to him.”

“We shouldn’t be seeing this right now,” Link remarks tightly. “This is something that was never supposed to happen.”

Skull Kid touches the bark, which all but nearly crumples under their hand. “But we’re seeing it right now.”

Maybe that should even be relieving to Link. 

It’s suddenly hard to look at Skull Kid. He does anyways, kneeling down and forcing himself to meet their amber gaze. “Skull Kid,” he starts, cupping their cheek - “Skull Kid, I’m going to tell you something, and you have to promise to believe me. It’s all true. I promise.”

“I promise,” whispers Skull Kid. 

Link pulls them into a crushing hug. 

“Skull Kid,” he chokes into their shoulder, repeating like a prayer, “Skull Kid, Skull Kid, Skull Kid - you might not see me after this for a little, but you’ll meet me again. Remember what the Salesman said? No matter how much we may part, I'll meet you. Promise of a lifetime.”

Link barely whispers, “Would you remember me?”

“Of course,” reassures Skull Kid, patting his back. “You’re my closest friend.”

Link presses a fierce kiss to their forehead, loathe to let go of them.

“I’ll miss you,” says Skull Kid, wiping at their eyes - the amber tears are falling again, more precious and sad than any fallen star. “When we meet again, we’ll still be friends?”

“Always,” Link swears. 

The fairy siblings drift over. Tael nods to him in silent farewell, always the more soft-spoken of the two; Link lifts his hand, and Tatl lands. 

“I’ll keep an eye out,” she tells him. “I’ll keep looking.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.” She sighs. “Thank you. I told you before, but - thank you. For everything.”

He kisses her one last time too, her star-chill light burning against his lips. 

In another life they’ll meet again, under better circumstances, where they can be just Link and Tatl and Tael and Skull Kid without the heavens bearing down; but in this life, in this world, the fairies each take Skull Kid’s hands and the three of them depart. Skull Kid looks back, just once; Link smiles. Tael looks back; Link nods again. Tatl looks back before they disappear into the grass; their shared gazes hold more than any words could ever say. _Thank you,_ Link mouths. He wonders if she’s crying. They leave him, for now. 

He turns then, and shuffles to lean back against the rotted bark, which he practically sinks into. Link shuts his eye. Taking the fairy ocarina from his side, he clutches it tight; his most treasured belonging. 

“Dad,” he whispers. “I’m home.”


	3. Chapter 3

As the early hours of the morning settle over Hyrule, the princess pads through the courtyard. The sun has not yet risen. A large cloak covers him head to toe, dark green with brown trimmings, enough to disguise her identity and status. She’s dressed for traveling, and indeed, she intends to leave. 

But there’s something they should do first. Silently, they head to the graveyard. A large stone tablet stands within; she knows this because she had it put there, after Link had come to see her. She also knows how the memory of his face falls, and how the mind obscures him, but she remembers the pleasant set of his features. A side effect, she supposes, of being a sage in a left-behind lifetime. And speaking of which - someone has beat her to the false grave. 

“Saria.” Zelda kneels beside her, tucking his cloak neatly below his legs. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The young girl’s sharp ears twitch, but she doesn’t look at Zelda. “And why is that?” There’s no hostility in her tone. “This is his grave.”

“It is a feigned one. I’d expect you of all people to see the truth, if you don’t mind my honesty.”

“I do see it,” Saria agrees. “And I don’t mind at all, Princess.”

“Call me Zelda. So why did you come?”

The once-sage asks, “Do you mourn him?” 

In fact, Zelda realizes her tone is carefully neutral. “I… do not know. I mourn what could have been, perhaps. But I’m not the mourning type anymore. I came here to say my farewells, false as the grave may be.”

“You smell of poisons, and deadly things,” Saria notes. 

Zelda inclines their head. “My father shall not wake with the sun.”

“Did he have it coming?” 

“I know your kind knows not of death,” Zelda says. “Nor should I ever wish the doling out of it to those who are inherently opposed - but he was deserving, yes.”

“I didn’t ask about the Kokiri,” Saria says quietly. 

“My apologies.”

“Were you talking about Link?”

“I was not, but I suppose my words fit,” Zelda muses without feeling. “He went through trials I’d wish upon none, and some unknown that I wish to know nothing about. Were you able to see him. Before he left?”

Saria takes a shuddering breath then, and with dawning horror Zelda sees tears in her eyes. They rub her back hesitantly, as the young girl tries to collect herself. Saria shakes her head. 

“I was too late,” she says, hands trembling in her lap. “I was out here looking for him, and - he went in. I looked and looked but he was always just out of reach. Like he was avoiding me.” She clenches her fist, face scrunching up with the motion.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“You don’t get it, Zelda. I’ve never been late before. Time doesn’t exist in the Forest - the Woods - it _hurts._ And when I was gone… he went in, after… it all just shifted into one.”

“Is that why you’re able to leave the Forest?” 

Saria sniffles. “Yeah. I’m the only Kokiri who still looks like one.”

“What happened to the others?”

“The Tree is grieving, and his grief reshaped the forest. That’s all.”

“He is grieving…”

“Yes, Zelda, he’s grieving the loss of a child he swore to protect, and failed.” Bitterness seeps into Saria’s voice. “Dad grew back and he sprouted with grief growing through and through, and nothing’s been the same since. I blame him,” she adds suddenly, spitting out the accusation. Zelda doesn’t stop her. “I blame him and Mido and everyone who could’ve looked out for Link, and didn’t. The goddesses too. I blame them. But Dad most of all.”

“How understandable. Do you blame me?"

“I blame everyone,” repeats Saria. Sap tears mark snails trails down her face. The princess strokes her hair. “You - we both carry those stupid memories, of all that’s never to come, and that stupid cycle, it’s a curse. Cycles are natural but this one's not.”

“Don’t blame yourself. You loved him more than anyone.”

“There was his fairy,” Saria chokes out. “I looked for her too. _She left him._ ”

There’s nothing Zelda can say to that, so he wipes at Saria’s cheeks as the girl sniffles. The sun still has yet to rise, and Zelda knows that he must go. Having grown further from prayer in her later years, all they send out is a quick wish to whoever may be listening that wherever he is, Link is at peace, and he isn’t alone. 

“I’m leaving this wretched place,” she tells Saria after some silent minutes pass. “There’s nothing left for me here, and I wish to be part of it no longer, and if I’m caught I may as well be killed. I’m headed to the mountains, where Impa awaits. Will you accompany me?”

“Ah, Zelda,” and Saria smiles shakily, “What want could you ever have of a lost, little soul?” 

“Companionship is all.” Zelda stands up, and feels for the knives he keeps hidden under cloth. “If you do not wish to come then I understand, but I shall wait by the gates in shadow until the sun rises, and then depart. In my years I have grieved enough. You have many years ahead of you, more than I can even begin to imagine, and not all of them need be lonely.” With that, Zelda squeezes her shoulder and leaves from the graveyard. 

Saria’s left alone by the blank tablet, kneeling in the dewey grass. A minute or so passes. She rubs her nose, still sniffling, and lifts her hands. Words begin to appear on the blank tablet.

Kokiri magic is of the truth of the world, and how it may be bent; as spells may require a wand, their magic requires an instrument. But she no longer needs one - Saria herself is the catalyst and perhaps this is a remnant of her once-sagehood, or maybe a sign of her shifting. She doesn’t want to dwell on it. Change isn’t a bad thing. 

_But the circumstances,_ she thinks dully, _suck._

Saria hasn’t seen her fairy in years. 

No one outside of the woodland world knows the Kokiri tongue, though it uses the same alphabet as Hylian, albeit one outdated and transformed separately through a couple or so ages. She leaves a message, a plea, a remembrance - all the same - for those who wish to read it. 

\--

The Forest melts into Woods and the Woods, sensing the great grief of the Tree, envelops the Forest and the Tree is a twisted, gnarled thing, but it is a home all the same. His children sing their music still. Skull Kids dance through the trees, carving puppets and masks, and what will in time be called a Grove swallows up the swordsman’s last remaining belonging. The Temple falls to rot. Decay is a natural thing, but the Woods remember, and the Woods take their revenge by any other name. 

And the Grove shifts, and it moves, and it will come to rest by the outskirts of a small farming village past the edge of Hyrule, and it will wait. 

But in the meantime, a child takes the princess’ hand in hers and they embark into the Field. The hills bear gentle witness to their leave. “If you’d like,” murmurs Zelda, “You can tell me about him.”

She’d found Link in the Woods so long ago, when two Skull Kids whom she’d befriended over a mutual love of swinging rushed into her meadow, bundle in hand: _A mother gave this to us,_ they had chattered, _Before the Woods took her in._ Saria had lifted the bundle and gazed at his chubby little face and had asked, _Does he have a name?_

_The mother called him Link._

_Then Link he shall be, unless he wishes otherwise,_ she had said cheerily, and brought him to their father. 

Saria could tell Zelda this: they had a special place in the meadow in the Woods, because she thought no one could find them there and Link hated to be found, but he didn’t mind being seen. He wanted the whole world to see him (he was capable, he could win, he had a _fairy_ ) and Saria would’ve shown them. She could tell Zelda about his stubborn streak with a heart just as strong. She could tell them how Link once knew how to survive best, from a childhood of trying and trying again and evading Mido and outwitting most of all, and Saria - she was always at his side, taking part. She was content to walk a little behind, just to watch out for him. 

She could talk about how he liked his name, because that was what Saria called him. She could tell Zelda that there is truly so much she could say, and how it hurts, to smile these days. 

Yet she has a promise to keep and the road winds ahead and so, after a little while she says, “We had a song,” and begins from there. 

\--

_The cursed swordsman lies before the sacred tree._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments are appreciated - this is my longest work to date!!  
> some notes:  
> \- i have... lore planned out for this series, and i promise that navi wasn't sidelined. i have something planned out for her as well (and the hero of time - hehe)  
> \- please remember that these characters are flawed and ambiguous and saria is a child. but also the oot king of hyrule had this coming. He had this coming so badly  
> \- link couldn't face saria cause i literally just don't think he could bring himself to, after everything  
> 


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